


In which John finds that the way to someone’s heart really is through the stomach

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: In which..... [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: John has a small secret but when it is deduced, Sherlock reveals a bigger one :)





	In which John finds that the way to someone’s heart really is through the stomach

He had cleared the breakfast plates and there did not seem to be anything else planned for the day. Sherlock was lying on the sofa with his back to everyone (Everyone? John and the skull. Sigh). He had been cranky for two entire days due to the good behaviour of the London citizens resulting in no cases for him to solve.

When John had come down in the morning Sherlock had just looked at him from the sofa and imperiously said, “Tea” and then not said a single word.

Trying to coach Sherlock in basic manners would have resulted in an even more furious scale of sulking. The best way to win a war was to avoid one.

So John had simply made tea and _because he really did love the man_ , he had also kept some biscuits next to him.

After tea Sherlock had continued to sulk, made the violin screech, refused to either shower or eat and John had run out of ideas to help with the boredom.

_Well, that was not entirely true……but some of those ideas were still in the realm of his fantasies and as long as they were ‘just flatmates’ there were, sadly, limits._

Since it was Saturday and John had made plans he was going to get on with them. He would of course make sure that his Genius Highness had something to eat for lunch if he did deign to.

“Sherlock? I have made some sandwiches for your lunch and kept them in this ziplock bag. And the crisps are next to it. There is some orange juice in the fridge. Please don’t add ice cubes—remember you are freezing horse urine in the tray for that case from Scotland. I will see you in the evening.”

He waited for a second.

_Did he really expect Sherlock to say thank you? Hah._

John picked his coat off the hook and when there was no response at all from Sherlock (of course), he just left.

*************************************

When he got back in time for evening tea, Sherlock did not seem to have moved an inch and certainly had not eaten anything.

John sighed.

But as soon as he removed his coat Sherlock turned around on the sofa and looked at him, narrowed his eyes, sniffed and said, “You ate fettucine with shrimp and also a dark chocolate mousse. You are wearing your date shoes. You had a lunch date?!”

‘That’s amazing Sherlock! But no, not quite,’’ said the good doctor, smiling a bit at having been able to keep _something_ secret from the genius. “We can’t keep eating out or getting takeaways ALL the time and I am the one who does all the cooking so I thought I would join some classes.” He shrugged. “You know….. learn some healthy recipes-- soups, salads, pasta and stuff. Things that might tempt you into eating more.”

“Ugh”, said Sherlock, making a face. Then he looked at John with his ‘deducing eyes’ (as John thought of them. _Oh how often he thought of those eyes……sleepy, smiley, grumpy_ …., oh wait, Sherlock was saying something to him?)

“John!” the detective said, “You look too happy for having done just cooking…….. _oh_ ……who else is at these classes?”

“There are 20 of us, it’s a big place.” replied John, casually.

 “Aha, you wore your date shoes and the blue checked shirt. I suppose many single women come there in order to find a nice man who is also interested in cooking.”

“Yeah, sure they do”, John smiled and nodded. “Single women, single men, just like me”.

At that Sherlock sat very still, blinked, got up suddenly and left the room.

John had no idea what had just happened but he was quite tired so he made himself some tea, watched TV for a couple of hours and waited for Sherlock to emerge.

Although having Sherlock shout at the TV about plot holes or deductions or ‘ _Why is everyone an IDIOT_ ’ did make for an annoying experience, John found that watching TV without him made for a fairly boring experience.

_Hmmm….if only his friend would lie down on the sofa with his head on his lap, so he could ruffle his curls and soothe him, John was sure Sherlock would have a much calmer viewing experience. It might even lead to something more entertaining and exciting than what was on TV……….Oh well, like THAT was ever going to happen._

Having completely lost track of what he was watching by now, John got off the sofa with a deep sigh, finished the sandwich and crisps and went up to his room to read some journals and sleep. Perchance to dream….

***********************************

Sunday mornings are for being relaxed and having a lie- in and today they neither had a case nor any emergency to deal with so John decided to just go for it. He was almost awake and his eyelids were fluttering but he was feeling too lazy to actually wake up fully so he just closed his eyes again and fell into a gentle daydream on the edges of consciousness.

The dream was filled with sunshine and picnics and children laughing and skipping down hills. He saw himself, blond and chubby, holding hands with a skinny smaller boy with wild curly black hair and brilliant blue eyes. They were just looking at each other and smiling, walking on the grass, swinging their hands together. His eyelids fluttered at the thought that this was someone he knew. Someone he should recognize…….and then there were picnic baskets and a rattle of spoons, pouring of lemonade or was it ginger tea……and the delicious smell of cinnamon French toast….. or was it scones? It smelt of freedom and happiness…..joy….love……… and some baked cheese and frying bacon….… _wait a minute….hold it right there_ , his brain said. _This is not a dream, this is too specific to not be real_ and slowly John drifted back to 221B which seemed to be swirling with the most amazing smells wafting up to his room.

_Was Mrs. Hudson throwing a street party for Prince Harry’s wedding? For the Queen’s birthday?_

Now that he was more awake he could also smell hash browns, some kind of egg preparation and a fresh nutty smell like arugula.

_What in heaven’s name was happening?_

His stomach rumbled as he sleepily ambled down the stairs, brushed his teeth and went towards the kitchen to put the kettle on, wondering if Sherlock was feeling less cranky today and might deduce this mystery.

He found himself gobsmacked to see the man himself in the kitchen.

************************************

There were two pans on the stove, with hash browns, bacon and a scrambled egg on each. Apparently scones were baking in the oven and the salad bowl, lemonade and French toast were set on the clean dining table.

John just stood there, blinking like a goldfish, simply unable to comprehend what was happening.

Sherlock was wearing an apron (Mrs. Hudson’s??) and wielding a large wooden spoon in one hand and a spatula in the other, looking at him with a peculiar expression.

“What…” said John rubbing his eyes. “What’s all this Sherlock?” he asked, waving his hands around, feeling like he often did with the detective-----as though he had wandered off into a mysterious land and the only map he had been given was written with invisible ink.

“Oh John”, Sherlock said, sounding a bit edgy, “As usual you see but you do not observe.”

“Well, yeah _, genius_ , it’s pretty obvious that apparently you can cook. And REALLY well judging by the smell!”

‘Hmm’, said Sherlock nonchalantly, ‘it’s just chemistry John. Simmer, stir and serve. No big deal.’

John was still looking at him, a small smile now hovering on his lips. He tilted his head and thought. He may not be a genius at deducing crime scenes but he understood relationships and something was surely brewing in this kitchen.

Definitely some chemistry………..something simmering…..something stirring.

He understood negotiations.

And most importantly he understood Sherlock-speak.

“Oh yes, of course,’ John said, equally casually, “Just chemistry. But the real mystery is why you never said you could cook and you let me do the cooking for the entire YEAR that we have known each other? And why are you showing me these skills now? Why today?”

Sherlock looked at him with an intense expression in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate. “So that……maybe you don’t need to go out to those cooking classes anymore?’ And his voice dropped a little and he sounded just a bit uncertain, “Because well……… you are always looking after me and now I can help cook and feed us..……and that would make you happy wouldn’t it? I can also, um, look after you, you know. You always look after me. All the time. And I never…….”

“Oh Sherlock that’s not true you know. You make me…….happy and you gave me something to live for….when I met you at Bart’s for the first time---- that changed my life. I take care of the small things and you take care of the big picture. That’s what makes us a good team.” John says tenderly, looking at him and smiling.

Sherlock’s face looked stricken as it always does when he has to deal with _emotions_ and he said “And well also…… because……. why should you waste time at those classes……..when you are not single…..are you really?”

John had to laugh at that.

_Was he still dreaming??_

‘Seriously Sherlock?! Are you asking me if we are a couple?”

Sherlock looked at him, waiting, unsure and John could not resist teasing him a bit.

“You know Sherlock, it would depend really on whether you have been hiding any _other skills_ that would be useful in a relationship …………like maybe saying ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ to start with and..……oh well, I don’t even know if all this stuff tastes as good as it smells anyway.”

‘Ok’, said Sherlock, catching on. ‘Close your eyes and,’ his voice dropped to a rumble,” I will give you a taste.’

John closed his eyes, trying very hard not to giggle.

Something crumbly and sweet made its way to his lips. He opened his mouth and took a small bite.

‘Mmm, that’s a scone…. delicious!’

‘Thank you John’ said Sherlock in a deep voice.

John smiled a bit. He was learning fast. _Genius._

Something softer and smelling divinely of cinnamon and butter was impaled on a fork and touching his lips. He tilted his head to take it in and closed his lips around it.

‘Ok…that…….that is an _amazing_ French toast.’

Sherlock rumbled “Thank you John” and his voice sounded much closer now and John was suddenly aware that the flutter in his stomach was not a hunger for food alone.

He cleared his throat and said softly ‘You are welcome Sherlock’.

Now a cool spoon was being tipped into his mouth.

‘Oh, that lemonade is just divine’. He licked his lips. ‘Thank you Sherlock’ he added.

‘My pleasure John,’ said Sherlock softly, sounding even closer now and John could hear the smile in his voice.

A tremor went through his whole body.

John tentatively parted his lips a bit in anticipation of the next taste but felt something warm near his lips, like a breath. He could smell a mixture of sweat and faded tobacco with some chemicals and a minty toothpaste.

‘Please John’, whispered Sherlock.

And then what touched his lips was so much more perfect and absolutely delectable that John gave a moan of delight, desperate to taste more.

When he finally came up for air and looked into those gorgeous blue eyes, barely an inch away from his and leaned against the strong arms holding him around the waist, John had no doubt which was the tastiest dish in their flat that day and would be, everyday, for all days to come.


End file.
